


Throw It in the Current

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Series: Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Food, M/M, Oral Sex, Showers, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://finnanddameron.tumblr.com/">finnanddameron</a>: [puts chin in hands] major will u tell me a story about chuck in his boxers eating takeout in the bunker</p><p>Yes. I think I will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throw It in the Current

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this sits on the timeline. A post-marriage trip to the bunker. Something like that.

Sam spent the morning in the gym, down deep in the bunker. Chuck had disappeared from bed by the time he went up to shower. So he took his bag down to the range for an intense weapons cleaning and a few test fires. He's finally heading back up when his phone gets a signal again and pings with a few texts. The most recent is from Chuck. It says, **great room. lunch.**

So he ignores the other texts and drops off the bag, heads out from the dorms.

He has to smile when he gets up there. Chuck is just in his boxers, feet propped up, slurping noodles from some take-out boxes. His eyebrows go up when Sam smirks and he gets sauce all on his mouth trying to manage the tangle. He pulls the rest of the mess down with his chopsticks and finally says, "Hello, handsome stranger."

Sam laughs and huffs taking the chair to his left. Drags a box over. Chuck points to the spring rolls and he opts for one of those first.

They get comfortable. "Everybody out?"

"Dean didn't have time to cook for us before they left so he ordered this for me. I only had to answer the door."

Must be eager to head south. Donna was gonna come in on a plane and they were all heading to Schlitterbahn in KC. Sam opted out because Chuck did.

He said it was because water parks are nasty.  
But he says the same thing about the beach.

"Can I ask you something?" he reaches for a box again, shuffles the napkins around for chopsticks.

Chuck shrugs.

"Is it that you can't swim?"

Chuck makes a bit of an unhappy face. Crosses his ankles the other way. "I can swim. But I think of it as a necessity and not recreation. Like running," he forks more into his mouth.

"If you can't swim, I get it. I mean it's not a big deal. I could, you know," he pokes into the fried rice, "I could teach you."

"I'm sorry, with all the voices in my head, sometimes it's hard to hear myself. Did I just say I _can_ or _cannot_ swim? Because I thought I just told you I could."

"Okay. Alright. Sorry. So why don't we go to a pool or something? A pond or a creek? It's hot out."

Chuck motions to their surroundings. "Because we have this perfectly frigid circa 1950 a/c technology pumping away and self-regulating without any idea of how to turn it on or off. Wouldn't wanna waste all this energy."

Sam nods. "So you can't swim."

Chuck sighs and sets his box down to search for the wontons and he sits up, leans over. Sam can see down his skinny back, almost to his ass as his shorts ride low. He's casual, still, puts his feet back up in a chair. Sam kind of indulges his need to stare. To remember what those legs feel like wrapped around his waist. To remember skidding his hands over Chuck's hairy thighs and down, to the softer insides, where there's less and you can see his bite marks.

He kind of wants to see all of Chuck's fuzzy self dripping wet in the sun. He really could teach him. They could go skinny-dipping. It would be exciting. He could lay Chuck out to get some vitamin D across a sun-warmed rock next to the river.

"You're literally gonna force me to prove it? I'm gonna get a brain-eating amoeba in some damn lake and then you'll be sorry you doubted me."

Uh-huh. "Fine," he shrugs.

"Oh my fuck," Chuck rolls his eyes. "I've gone to motel pools with you before."

"Yeah. The four-foot ones. Where you can stand anywhere."

Chuck keeps eating for a while. "You know what I see in the water?" he asks low.

Sam doesn't ask what because he's suddenly considering that maybe he doesn't want to hear it.

Chuck doesn't continue right away.

So Sam says, "I can guess at a few things." A few of the nightmares Sam has had, drowning in blood and fire in the pit. A few of Dean's - planes crashing into the Pacific, dragging him down. And some of the shit that's happened to them in real life. The child in the lake in Wisconsin. The little girl who almost died in Connecticut. The kids who get traumatized going through full-immersion baptisms.

His shoulder twitches a shrug. "Yeah."

Sam still doesn't know if he believes it but. Chuck isn't wrong. He can float in a little pool. They don't stick to the coast much. They could always make some happy memories in the bath to take over the bad ones.

Maybe another shower at least. No tubs in the bunker. But Sam still really wants to see him dripping and slick everywhere. Wants to touch his hair and pull his fingers down Chuck's chest, over the firm, skinny structure and the masculine shape and feel of him.

Watching Chuck get hard makes him hard. Shit. Thinking about Chuck loose in his boxers right now is almost doing the job.

He gets caught staring. And keeps staring. Hands Chuck a napkin for his beard.

Chuck takes it and assesses him. "Can I ask you something?" he echoes Sam.

"Sure."

"You know what ever happened to Ed. Zeddmore?" He punctuates the name by tapping the bottom of the box with his chopsticks. And then looks up.

And Sam looks down.  
And knows he's blushing.

"You keep up with the Ghostfacers, I know you do. I've seen it and I saw it in your search history a while back-"

"We um. We. Um."

Chuck deliberately drops his feet and turns his attention on him.

Fuck.

"We ran into them. Um. A while back. It's um. Just Ed now. Ed on his own."

Chuck only blinks in acknowledgement.

"I don't. Um. I don't know what you want me to say?"

Chuck smiles slowly. "You know. I know that Corbett kid put it into words for you. And I know when Zach threw you guys into a fake life, you kept up with the Ghostfacers without even knowing wh-"

"I. I-I- yeah," Sam stutters.

Chuck cocks his head.

Sam slumps. Drops the box on the table and tries to physically grasp for words.

It's not like it's a secret to Chuck.

"It's just Ed now?" Chuck clarifies.

"Oh my god," Sam sighs. "Um. Yeah."

"And you didn't ever-"

"We didn't-"

"And he didn't-"

"It was-!! We met up. With them. I mean. By accident. It was a case. And I. I was. Dean was -- we were dealing with this bullshit and--"

"So what you're saying is, Ed was single and Ed got hotter," Chuck nods at his own answer, reading it directly off Sam's blushing face, head, forehead, neck, everything.

Ed.  
Ed got.  
Yeah, okay, to Sam? Ed got slightly hotter.

He's like. It's just that he's like... kind of the size and shape of man that Sam is attracted to, okay?? Not that there was anything wrong with the way he used to look it's just-- you stack Harry and Ed against one another and, like, the obvious choice is Ed and-- whatever.

You know.  
And.  
You know.  
Yeah okay.

It was. It was just a tense time and he couldn't have that... he wouldn't have been any good... it was...

"Oh my god," he says again, dumps his head in his hands.

"See. I don't like swimming. You don't like admitting that you had a crush on the Ghostfacer."

Dean will never let him live it down if he finds out. Like.

N E V E R .

Like holy fuck. They never even interacted much and the guy was kind of a dick. Too earnest and too careless and.

Still very.  
Very.

Beard. Glasses. Short. Firm but giving. Masculine.

Just. You know. It was the furthest thing from his mind, at the time.

"You're hotter," he says into his hands.

"Uh-huh. You're subscribed to his YouTube channel aren't you?"

Oh, god, _he is_. He really is.

He's.  
It's just.

He just makes sure to report the videos him and Dean are mentioned in, though, so they get removed. It's not.

Well.

Maybe it's a little bit for-

Sam scrubs a hand down his face. "What do you want to never mention a word of _any of this_ in _any way_ Dean might catch wind of it?"

"You're my husband, I wouldn't do that," he reaches to sway Sam's knee a little. "But I am gonna leverage it to make you blush and act like a bumbling idiot."

"And to never have to visit a beach or a waterpark in your life ever again."

"Mmmmmmm-maybe. If you really force my hand."

And he won't. Because this is borderline mortifying.

The Ghostfacers are to hunting what the Real Housewives are to acting. It's embarrassing.

Sam picks his food back up for a totally lame transition back to "damn this food is delicious" and Chuck shrugs and agrees and sits back.

He gets up, after a while, to collect the trash and he lets Chuck sit right where he is. Moves around him. Leans over him to grab stuff and take a gratuitous look down Chuck's belly, the hairline disappearing down into the band of his boxers.

Sam plants a kiss on his head and gets rid of the trash.  
Washes his hands.

Returns to the great room to knee at Chuck's propped-up legs so he drops them.

And Sam drops, too, right down in front of him. Pushes a hand up his furry belly to his furry chest.

"Hi," Chuck searches.

"Hey. Come here?" Sam touches his soft beard when he leans forward. Cups Chuck's face in both palms. Draws him down by the neck for a kiss.

Uses it to distract him, surprise him, reach into his shorts.

Chuck jolts a little but slowly, inevitably, gets into it. Opens his mouth and his legs both wider.

Sam draws his other hand down his belly again, follows the abundant hair to the thick thatch around his cock and strokes his softness everywhere. Runs nails through his body hair and relishes the feeling of Chuck's soft, well-kept beard against his face.

Chuck lets go his grip on the chair's arms and takes Sam's neck, directing him, dominating the kiss when Sam sits back a little more for him. Giving it up to him. Wanting Chuck to take; wanting to give what he has.

Sam strokes him slowly. Pauses to pull his hips forward, his boxers down. He's slightly sweaty, sticks to the chair a little and only starts getting hotter. Sam likes the way he gets hot and bothered and breathless.

He has to pull back a little. "Keep holding me?" he asks, but doesn't wait for Chuck to agree. Bends to go down on him, hollowing his cheeks and taking him in, sucking him wet. Chuck makes a cut-off groaning noise.

His voice, his harsh breaths, his moans all echo across the great room, the whole empty space.

Sam goes down, takes him all in, nose at his pelvis and inhaling the scent of his husband. His own person who he gets to keep close. Private, only for Sam, the sleepy smell of their sheets and the damp summer smell sunk into his skin through his clothes. Manly and sweaty and the salt of his skin on Sam's tongue.

"Sam," his voice is so small, like it is in the dark, in bed, whimpering for him, _needing_ him. It's the sound of Chuck's _need_ and it's beautiful. Sam moves up and off and kisses all down his belly, all over his thigh. When Chuck's fingers dive into his hair he goes loose on his shoulders a little. Moves back to Chuck's cock and waits to be directed some. Sam pushes himself, but Chuck isn't holding him down on himself this time. Sometimes he just can't. Or won't. His soft, kind hands. His firm thighs under Sam's palms and the heady sex scent of him. The different ways he's Sam's lover and Sam's protector and Sam's soft place to rest and Sam's steady support structure. The ways he's soft and hard. Like the silken skin of his cock and the drive of it into the back of Sam's throat when he just _lets go_.

He isn't letting go today. He's cherishing and Sam feels it in his touch.

That's okay. Sam pulls off and sits back. Strips his boxers off and tosses his own shirt over his head to leave it there, too. A breath rattles out of Chuck, staring at his mouth, and he presses up to take Sam's wet lips before he can say anything.

"Showers?" Sam can finally plead after drawing him to his feet. "Wanna watch you."

Chuck is okay with this.

Nobody better turn their car around and come back. Because Sam trails all his stuff from the great room, down to the showers. Kissing at Chuck's shoulders and hanging onto his hip as they walk.

In one of the stalls, in the steam and under the water, Chuck strokes himself a few times before reaching to stroke Sam, too. And Sam watches him soak. Stands there for a while with him, head back and letting the water sink heat into his skin. He blinks down at Chuck and pushes his hands down his body, his whipcord arms and deceptively strong back. Across his chest to palm a nipple some. Sam kisses at his neck and Chuck strokes them both while Sam holds him. Curves hands down under his ass and back up again. All up under his arms and to his neck. Into his hair to hold his head and kiss him.

Chuck lets him turn off the water to come on him. To press their foreheads together, stroking themselves, eyes locked, panting, stuttering each other's names. Sam crests and his jaw goes wide, silent until his jaw pops and he exhales huge and hard, roping come on Chuck's belly, slightly soft center and strong solid chest, right where his heart rests. 

He has to drop, kiss down Chuck's side to take his load in his mouth when Chuck finally gets there, too. He wants it like he can't even fucking believe. Across his mouth and down to his neck. Chuck leaning down after to kiss him, desperately, crying out against his mouth as if he were lost or still coming or too emotional or something.

Weird that it takes a while for them to calm down. Stop just standing there, messy and wet, pressed against one another, breathing. But Sam can't stop feeling like _I found you_ all of a sudden. There were other people in this world who it would have been amazing to share time with. But part of the impact is that he had no idea he might find someone who it would _never cease to be_ amazing with. He feels this kicked and breathless every goddamn time Chuck brings him off.

Shit.

Sometimes he feels this way just walking into a room and finding that Chuck's still there.

Sam turns the water back on, warm and then cool. Because they'll go up top for groceries soon. It will be hot outside. They'll want to retain a little of the chill.

He washes Chuck's belly off and gets an odd sort of fond look from Chuck when pushing his fingers through the wet hair there.

"Love you," Sam says by way of explanation.

"Noticed. I know how to swim because you guys know how to swim. But I don't like it because I never _learned_. I never learned how to swim, I just know how and it's always scared me. How the water gets deep and you can't see the bottom and if you open your eyes it stings. I've never-- I don't like swimming. I'm sorry. We can sit in a creek I guess."

"We can sit in tubs. You know I don't follow the Ghostfacers anymore for eye candy, right?"

"You have the most fucked-up idea of eye candy."

Sam gives him a _look_ for managing to belittle himself even after getting Sam on his knees not once, but _twice_ looking to take him in his mouth. "I'll never be as attracted to anyone as-"

"I know. I know you just-- and it would be fine if you still thought he was good-looking. But. I'm." He stops. Laughs. "I'm it for you. Which is amazing. I press all your buttons," he says almost like a question.

Sam shuts the water off and grabs out for their towels. Dries Chuck off and helps him out first.

Gets a good, long look at his naked back, his ass, before wrapping him up. Drying himself off.

"I don't know if you understand," Sam tries to find the words. "You press buttons I didn't know I had. You press that many. Sometimes I just lie there in bed and I want you to climb on top of me and look for more. Show me what else I don't know."

"I love that about you," Chuck says, all cheer. "You enjoy learning. You never stop wanting to _know_ and then once you do, you're like, _what else can I know??_ So sometimes I just have to make shit up. It's a challenge. It's fun."

"I'm glad you like it," Sam smiles. "Glad you like _me_ ," he pushes Chuck toward their room.

"I like you more than anyone could ever _dislike_ you. I'll block them all out. I'll drown them all. Drown them in our sap."

"See, that's why we need the baths. All that sticky sap."

Chuck is all solemn agreement. "No way else to handle it. We've gotta have our baths."

Sam grins. He's gonna make Chuck a present for when they finally do have a huge tub of their very own. He'll buy bath accessories and scented soaps. There will be mood lighting and a safe ledge to set his coffee cup.

He might have a very pruny husband.


End file.
